


One Last Wish

by LoonyFish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Multi, PS I love you, World Travel, previous character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyFish/pseuds/LoonyFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin Emrys and Arthur Pendragon had been each other's worlds for years when tragedy strikes and Merlin dies from lung cancer. Left alone and grieving, Arthur feels like nothing will ever be the same again, no matter how hard he tries to make the world right again.<br/>Then he receives a letter. An impossible letter that can't be there: a letter from Merlin, detailing plans to send Arthur on the trip of a lifetime around the world Merlin once explored as a kid.<br/>As Arthur struggles through the heartbreak of losing everything dear to him, he learns things he didn't even realise he didn't know. There's scary amounts of responsibility, a lot of drinking, helping (and being helped by) people he had never even met before, as well as learning along the way that maybe life hadn't been as smooth as he thought it had, and most importantly, what it means to be himself.<br/>And soon it becomes clear that although this is the end of an era, it may just be the start of something wonderful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> You might recognise this fic from my other account over at [timetravelwithcamelotsdetective](http://archiveofourown.org/users/timetravelwithcamelotsdetective/pseuds/timetravelwithcamelotsdetective/works) (long story as to why I moved, I just had to get away from that account, sorry!) but this is a rewrite of it :) I was damn proud of the story when I wrote it but looking back there is so much more I want to do with it and so I've begun this rewrite in the hope of making it the best it can be :)  
> Huge thanks to the wonderful [DragonflyMerri](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflyMerri/pseuds/dragonflyMerri) for BETA-ing (you would not believe the fangirling I did when I realised who she was - if you haven't read her fics GO AND DO SO okay?).  
> Thanks for reading :) Enjoy!!
> 
> If you'd rather comment on Livejournal please do so [here ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3176136)

_Arthur_

_I’m dead. I’m gone. Forever. It had to be said Arthur, because I know you, and I know you are in denial right now. I am never coming back. In a perfect world, one we once knew but now I’m not so sure, I would never leave you, you would never have to face the world alone, and now you’re going to have to go on without me. You may have this piece of paper, my words, etched here forever (unless you lose it or use it as a shopping list, which could happen), but you won’t see me again, and I won’t be seeing you. BUT -now listen closely - you can NEVER use that as an excuse not to live, you will use it as an excuse TO live. You have to keep moving forward, moving on up._

_This letter is one of 10 envelopes I have left for you. Don’t go looking for them; the next envelope will contain the remaining ones and I am trusting you not to just read them all at once. Each one has a set of instructions. You must promise to follow EVERY SINGLE ONE and only open the next letter when you have done them. Understand? Comprendo? Good. Because I have an army of willing spies, ready to force you into doing them :P actually it’s not so much of an army, more just Morgana but she is one scary woman when she wants to be._

_Now, your first set of instructions (you know how much I love my lists) :_

  1. **_Get out of the house._** _Go running, meet up with Morgana, go to the pub with the guys, I don’t care! Just for heaven sake, get out of the house!_
  2. **_Take my shopping list off the fridge_** _**and throw it away, it is NOT a keep sake.** You can buy whatever the hell you like now. I know that you secretly hated all of the things that I have on it anyway, especially the vegetarian stuff!_
  3. **_Buy something new for the house_** _. It can be anything you like, absolutely anything. A goldfish bowl (you could even get a goldfish, shock horror!), a new cushion, a statement of modern art or whatever the hell those framed squiggly lines are supposed to be; just make the house your own._



_Off you go, my love. And good luck :)_

_M x_

Arthur let out a huff of breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. The tears were streaming down his face, his hands shaking. Merlin was gone forever. His Merlin. Over five months he had watched Merlin wither and fade before his eyes. He’d held Merlin in those final moments; held him as his last breath shuddered through his wrecked frame; held him as he lay lifeless; held him tight in his arms, never wanting to let go.

The last five days had been pure hell. Every time a door had opened, his head would snap up, his heart desperately hoping it had all been a bad dream, that it was Merlin walking through the door. Arthur hadn’t eaten, he’d barely slept, barely drank, barely moved off their sofa ( _but it wasn’t theirs anymore, was it?_ Arthur thought to himself bitterly, _nothing would ever be ‘theirs’ again_ ). There was a gaping hole in his heart. Like he was missing a limb. He couldn’t move.

Five months previously, Merlin had started complaining that his chest was tight. He hadn’t done anything about it – he was always too busy to find time to go to the doctors, he never stood still, surely it must just be a common cold or something, yeah? Four months ago, Merlin had collapsed, unable to breathe and had been rushed into hospital. Then, on an awful day 82 days ago that would never leave Arthur’s mind, the doctor had told them in a quiet voice that Merlin had lung cancer. 81 days, Merlin had been admitted to hospital and started treatment. It wouldn’t last. 59 days and they’d been told it was too late. The lung cancer was too advanced. Merlin was going to die.

Those words screamed in his head again and again no matter how much time passed. The doctor’s patient voice was a dagger, stabbing him repeatedly in his broken heart. 20 days ago and Merlin was only just able to breathe on his own. 15 days ago, Merlin had to wear an oxygen mask at all times, his lungs shrinking with every moment. 5 days, Merlin had stated falling asleep after just 5 minutes, the physical activity too much.

4\. 3. 2. 1. Time was up. Merlin was dead.

Arthur read the letter again, his eyes skimming the words over and over until they ingrained into his memory forever. And it hurt. The letter was so… Merlin. So full of fun and life. So happy and excited; ready to tackle whatever the world threw at him. He could almost see Merlin writing the letter, a flitting image of Merlin painstakingly deliberating over the words, smiling and crying together as he remembered why the letter had to be written at all. It hurt to think of Merlin. To see him so near, yet know he was so far away. Merlin was his life, his salvation, and as cheesy at it seemed, Merlin was his one and only. No one would ever compare to him. The thoughts made his whole body ache, his brain thumping against his skull and it hurt. It hurt so much.

But Merlin was right, as usual. Arthur did need to get out of the house, staying inside was doing him no good at all.

A cold shower and a piece of toast later, and Arthur was pounding the streets, music blaring in his ears. It almost felt amazing to be out of his own head for a while, focusing on the music, on the drum beat of his feet against the pavement. But there was nothing, nothing that could block out the ache in his chest. Visions of Merlin ghosted round his mind. On every corner, Merlin was there. He saw the dorky grin, the almost elfin ears and the mop of hair disappearing round the bend, but when he called out, Merlin wasn’t there. It was just a memory.

Their house was cold when he returned. Pushing open the door was like opening the doors to hell, only it wasn’t a searing heat that greeted him, it was freezing iciness that struck his heart. There was no smell of Merlin’s cooking wafting from the kitchen and filling the house; no music blaring from the radio, no Merlin joining in; no laughter. The pure empty desolation was overwhelming. He was completely alone. No one to care. The tears came from nowhere, cascading down his face in a waterfall of despair. His legs gave way beneath him, making him collapse against the door, screaming a strangled cry of silent desperation. He screamed and screamed and screamed, the silent pain wracking through his body and making every nerve burn. It was all he could do. Merlin was gone. Merlin was lost. He’d never see Merlin again.

He pulled the letter from the counter. There’d been a moment when he’d been tempted to take it with him on the run. But no matter how much he wanted to cling to the lifeline, he knew he couldn’t ruin it. If the letter had lied, if it was the last one, then he had to keep it safe. It was all he had. But he’d done it. One task was down, there were two left. And he had to do them. It was like Merlin was there. The letter made him laugh through the tears, the way Merlin always made him laugh no matter what. He had Merlin there to guide him, so it was time he followed.

He heaved himself up from his heap on the floor. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, each step a mile he had to walk. He couldn’t change the house, he didn’t want to. If he started to mover Merlin’s things, take down his lists, change the furniture… nothing would ever be the same. Without Merlin’s quirky things, without Merlin’s choice in picking the sofa or the dining table, the house would never be _theirs_ again. Merlin’s shopping list was a connection. A shopping list needed to be taken somewhere, Merlin would need to come back for it at some point. There was a fleeting memory of the time Merlin had gone shopping without his list. He’d returned half an hour later, flushed all over, with no shopping. The list was everything.

The kitchen had always been Merlin’s haven. It was where he kept everything he needed. Arthur stood in the kitchen, taking everything in. The barren cupboards, the spotless work surfaces, the utensils exactly where they were supposed to be; it wasn’t right. It was too cold, too quiet, the ticking of the clock eerily loud. Before it had always been so warm, so welcoming. It had been Merlin in a room, his area. Arthur wasn’t a bad cook; he just hadn’t needed to do anything with Merlin around. Morgana had once joked that cooking was Merlin’s mistress – Arthur had always seen why, Merlin’s food was porn with cream on top.

They had a plain white fridge/freezer that had cost the Earth. At least, it was supposed to be plain. Merlin’s lists and love for all things magnetic covered the fridge in a whirlwind of colour; words were spelt out in silly letters, photos of them and all their friends on every other available space. A small, sad smile played at Arthur’s lips as he looked at the mess. Arthur’s life had always been so structured. Everything had a time and a day; everything had a place or a box or little cupboard with little white sticky labels. Then Merlin appeared in his life. He’d been like a tornado of madness. He never put things away and his favourite activity was mocking Arthur about the labels (“Who the hell has labels for everything, Arthur? I don’t even think the Queen has sticky labels in her wardrobe!”). Merlin had relaxed him, released the tension from his shoulders and allowed him the freedom his father never had.

The list Merlin had wrote about stood out like a sore thumb on the door. It was the very last list Merlin had added. He’d been planning to go shopping the afternoon he had been admitted to hospital, now the list had long been forgotten. Until now. Gingerly, he walked towards the fridge. His heart was pounding and he could hear his blood rushing through his ears. It was such a simple task, one of those mundane things that everyone else would find ridiculously easy. But not Arthur. Not someone whose whole world had just fallen out from under them. Not someone who was more lost and confused than he had ever felt before. His hand curled around the crinkled paper, and for a moment he closed his eyes and allowed himself to just feel. He could see Merlin’s panicked face as he hurried to scribble down last minute items before his mind wondered and he forgot something important.  He could see the glint in Merlin’s eye when he added strawberries and cream, planning their meal for that evening. Could see the cheeky grin he wore as he placed the letter ‘L’ (“For ‘list’ obviously, Arthur!”) over it to hold it in place. Seeing Merlin so clearly in his mind’s eye made his heart warm.

Breathing deeply he pulled the list down and held it tightly in his shaking hands. Come on, Arthur. Do it. It’s not difficult! He clicked the bin lid open, gripping the list close to his chest one more time. Then he let go… The list floated down and landed softly on top of the pile of rubbish. The bin lid clicked shut. The list was gone.

Stumbling back through to the living room, Arthur plonked himself down on the sofa again. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, not thinking, not feeling, but it was dark when the phone rang.

“Hey Arthur,” a soft female voice came through the phone.

“Hey, ‘Gana,” he replied quietly, his almost whisper sounding like a scream. This was the first sort of interaction he had had since Merlin had died; it was strange hearing another person’s voice.

“Do you fancy coming over to my place? Me and Gwaine are going to have dinner and then…”

“’Gana,” he choked, “I’m not… I’m not ready yet.”

“Arthur…” she whispered, “Do you want me to come over?”

“Maybe… maybe tomorrow?”

“Okay…  I love you, Arthur. Remember that. I’m always here for you, you’re not alone in this.”

“Thanks.” He replied brokenly, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Bye, Arthur.”

Arthur hung up. He couldn’t face another goodbye. Goodbyes were permanent. He never wanted to say goodbye to anyone ever again; that would mean losing them forever, losing them the way he had lost Merlin.

He awoke the next morning with a crook in his neck and drool running down his chin. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa again. As he stretched his arms above his head, he wondered for a moment where Merlin was, wondered whether Merlin needed waking or if he was staying home to work. But reality fell on his like a ton of bricks a second later. He started to scream again, burying his head into the new cushion trying to muffle as much noise as possible. And as the sun rose, Arthur cried, Arthur wept. He wept for his lost love. Wept for the life he could have known. Begged that Merlin could come back – who he was begging to, he didn’t know, he didn’t care.

There were so many things that needed to be sorted out; people who needed telling, Merlin’s clothes needed clearing, appointments and reservations needed cancelling. All of them final. Final things that cleared Merlin not only out of his life, but out of the world forever too – there would be no coming back.

He spent a while in his room, cross legged on the floor beside their wardrobe, running his fingers over the worn cotton of Merlin’s clothes. The soft fabric was cool and loved; still smelling of Merlin, his sweet, almost cherry smell filling Arthur’s nostrils, fainter now than it used to be, but still there and still the only smell Arthur would ever need. That smell proved Merlin had lived, proved he had been there, proved that Arthur hadn’t made it up.

Another cold shower, another run. The same route as yesterday familiar and constant in his mind, unchanging to keep some continuity. The thud of his feet on the pavement soothed him, it gave him a focus point, a focus that wasn’t the ache in his chest. The winter air was cruel, the wind biting. There was no warmth in his heart; the love and tenderness Merlin radiated in his smile was lost forever.

He returned home. Again he read the letter, again it hurt. But task three was all that should matter now, it was all that did matter now. Merlin had always known Arthur hated buying stuff for the house, always allowing Merlin to choose under the strict conditions of “No pink. Our house is going to be pink free.”. Merlin had grinned and agreed, and from then on Arthur always felt that one day he was going to come home and the whole house was going to be pink and there Merlin would be hiding in a corner crying with laughter as Arthur completely lost the plot.

Yet here he was. Faced with the arduous task of shopping, and not even good (read: food) shopping, just house stuff shopping. God, he hated even the notion.

IKEA, to Arthur, was the sin of the Earth. A big jumble of DIY furniture that no normal person could fit together without drilling some new holes themselves which really defeated the whole point of flat-plack furniture. But it was only 10 minutes from the house, and it did have quite a big selection of stuff even if he didn’t know what most of it was, surely there must be something there for him to find. So that’s where he headed.

If he was honest, Ikea was horrific.  Arthur hadn’t realised how much time had passed since Merlin had… since he’d died. A whole week… which meant, _Fuck I came to IKEA on a Saturday_. Arthur groaned inwardly, running a hand shakily through his hair. People were everywhere, throwing heaven knows what into their baskets; kids were screaming, parents were stressed; the shop floor was littered with cardboard boxes, plastic bags, bits of cable that someone was going to fall over soon; it was mayhem. It was almost too much disaster to deal with.

All he needed was one item, how hard could it be? He slipped a photocopy of the letter (have tucked the actual letter away at home to keep in safe) out of his pocket and re-read task three.

“Cushion… art… goldfish bowl…” he muttered to himself, at a complete loss as to what he was doing. “Cushion.” He decided firmly, cushions would be easy. Cushions were just soft and squidgy things used for comfort and decoration, it would be easy for him to find one of them that he liked.

_I need something to match the house… blue or red maybe?... soft and fluffy… son I can snuggle into it… shit I sound like a girl… I really hope no one is telepathic here… this is not the time for this train of thought get a grip Arthur… it’s cushion shopping not telepathy… focus, Arthur… that one there!_

Arthur snatched a red cushion tightly to his chest; glancing left and right to make sure no one had seen him. The soft fabric was cool to touch but would soon become war, and as he studied it he gently traced the embroidered golden dragon with his finger. It was perfect.

 _Merlin would have loved it._ He thought suddenly, his eyes beginning to water, his hands shaking.

He sped to checkout, not caring who he bumped into; he had to get out of there. The walls were closing in, the stuffy air was suffocating him, he was drowning dry. Outside the store he collapsed onto the nearest bench. The world was spinning beneath him and this time he could feel it. The ground was waiting to swallow him up whole. He wanted Merlin back, ne needed Merlin back. Without him his life meant nothing and no one could convince him otherwise.

He sat on that bench for nearly an hour before stumbling home. He felt light headed and dizzy for the rest of the day, unable to keep himself grounded at all. He lay, curled up on the sofa, cradling his new cushion and his favourite photograph of Merlin tightly to his chest, wrapped up in Merlin’s dressing gown. The world felt empty. His heart was broken. Life wasn’t worth living.

Little did he know, Merlin was going to be helping him again very soon.


	2. Chapter 2

The world kept turning and Arthur kept hurting. Falling asleep on the sofa every night, Arthur was exhausted and drowning in his own misery. The house was tidy, but a thin layer of dust had settled over everything. There might as well have been no one living there.

Each day Arthur would heave himself from the sofa at 10, shower and shave. He’d pick up the post when he heard it clatter against the mat in the hall, flick through, discard it – usually it was junk or bills, they could wait. Then he’d collapse back onto the sofa, watching crap day-time TV until he fell asleep. Never did he venture upstairs; never did he wander into the room they had once called their bedroom because he didn’t feel he had the right to anymore.

This carried on for two weeks. Two weeks and three days since Merlin had died. A Tuesday which should have been unremarkable suddenly wasn’t.

Arthur heard the crash as the mail hit the floor. It was louder than usual, as if there was something heavy in it. Arthur frowned to himself; he wasn’t expecting any post. Unless… _No, Arthur, don’t. It won’t be. It…_ can’t _be._ Every day he had waited, every day he had hoped and wished that the next letter would be coming through the door. It was all he was living for. His heart pounded as he walked slowly towards the door. As he approached he could see on large, red A4 envelope buried underneath the rest of the post. _Could it be?_ Ignoring the crack of his knees, he crouched down and picked up the pile. Casting the others aside, he held the red one tightly. On the front in gold was ‘Arthur’ written in Merlin’s neat, loopy handwriting. There was no address, just his name, delicately inscribed.

He clasped the envelope tightly in his hands, not quite able to believe it. He sat himself down on the sofa, unblinking, staring intently at the impossibility he was holding. This was it. Nine more links to Merlin, the final times Merlin would ever guide him again. Taking three deep breaths, he turned the envelope over in his hands, and broke the wax seal – smiling as he recognised the Pendragon seal Merlin had used, always focusing on the small details.

Silent tears rolled down Arthur’s cheeks as he pulled the bundle of letters onto his lap. There were a selection of smaller, dark blue envelopes with their numbers glistening in silver ink when held up to the soft morning sun.

He almost couldn’t bring himself to open the first letter. The quicker he opened the letters, the sooner he would lose his Merlin forever. And so he made himself a promise. This was all he was going to ever have left from Merlin, so he was going to follow the guidance every step of the way. Because whatever Merlin wanted him to do, it must be important. Admittedly, the first set of tasks weren’t exactly rocket science, but Merlin was clever, he must know what he’s doing… right? So he opened letter number one.

_Hey Arthur,_

_I hope I have you intrigued. I worry that those first instructions were very, very simple, but then I remember that that was kind of the point. Though now I guess you’re wondering what the point actually was, so let me explain._

_Letter numero uno was to show you that the world will always keep turning. The basic things that were once regular occurrences are still regular occurrences to you and to everyone else. Just because my world has ended, just because our life together has stopped, doesn’t mean that everything else stopped too. Small mundane tasks – grocery shopping, doing the laundry – are part of a routine I know you love. With your labels and fixation on the familiar and unchanging, I know you need something to kick you back into doing both the things you want to do, and to force you into doing the things you hate. The basic things in life will always be the same, no matter what twists and turns you encounter along the way. I know you’ll shut yourself away from the world; you’re a drama queen, you can’t deny it (and if you are trying to deny it, remember when the Camelot Knights lost the footie match when you were ill? You didn’t speak in anything other than grunts for three days! Don’t tell me that’s not being dramatic!). I had to make you get the hell out of the house and into the world, back into your ridiculous running routine that – for any normal human being – is one of those things you start in the New Year as a new year’s resolution and give up after the first day because donuts are so much better than healthy living. But you do it anyway. I know you’re going to find it hard, every little thing will be a memory in some way or another and, really, who wouldn’t find it hard? I tried to make you meet up with Morgana or some of the guys, but I can tell that’s not going to work, that you’ve shut yourself away, deciding you’re going to be alone forever. That’s not true. But I’ll get back to that later._

_Now, I guess it’s time for me to get back to the actual point of this letter. But, love, first you have to have a bit of a back story before you start on this mad journey (you’ll get it soon) and you might need a cup of tea to help you digest it all. Got that sorted? Good good :) because you are seriously going to need it!_

_Okay, here we go._

_When I was 12, my parents decided to take me out of school and travel round the world. We travelled for 6 months and we went everywhere! We crossed three continents and met loads of awesome people who changed our lives forever._

_I was going to make this a surprise for your birthday when I had saved up enough money for us both to go, but hey, looks like life got in the way first, eh? Yet your tasks/instructions for the next couple of months (or years, depending on how much you enjoy yourself or lose yourself in the mad world that’s out there for you to explore) is to travel the world. Re-meet the people I met and make sure they’re okay for me; go on an adventure, and find out who you really are – because Uther never gave you the chance, and I know you’ve always just wanted to be free._

_So here is the list of specific instructions. As the letters go on, the tasks will get more and more ridiculous. We did some… strange things on our travel; with dad’s love for the outdoors and mam’s insane ability to befriend anyone and everyone we met, you would not believe the things we got up to! But you’re gonna do it anyway, because you love me too much to do otherwise ;) (I am kidding, Arthur. If you don’t want to do this, don’t want to go on a mad quest. If you want to start your life again, I don’t mind. Give the letters to Gwaine or someone. I’d just love you to do it for me. One last wish? Can you grant me that?). Anyway, back to the list, eh?_

  1. **_Head back to Camelot. Go and see my mother_** _. She still lives in my childhood home, and my bedroom is still there for me if I ever wanted to come back to it. I’ll never need to use it now, but I asked mum if she’d keep it for you, keep it till you went there. What she doesn’t know, however, is what is hidden in my sock drawer ;) and no, it’s not what it sounds – this isn’t a quest to make you hide anything sexual before mam finds it!  In my sock drawer there is a credit card. In that bank account are all my savings. I kept the card there because it is a) the safest place on earth and b) I could then never be tempted to use the money for other reasons._
  2. **_Go to Will_** _. He lives across the road from mam. He was my best friend as a kid and he’s going to think this is really strange but ask him this “What time did you and Merlin always go down to the river?” he will give you a time (hopefully in 24 hour clock otherwise you have to change it yourself). This number is the PIN number for the card. I would write it down, but if this letter gets intercepted I don’t want that money lost! I suppose I should really explain what we did at the river because it is no way near as suggestive as it sounds. Trust me, Arthur! Me and Will!? That was never going to happen!! We would star-gaze. We both had dreams, BIG dreams. But Camelot was a small village in Western Wales, neither of us held much hope in achieving these dreams. And we both believed in wishing upon a star. By the river at that time you could see every star; you could see the vastness of the sky and (if you were lucky) you could see the magical mystery of a shooting star! And every time we saw one, we would both make a wish. My shooting star brought me to you. I can never thank it enough_
  3. **_Go back to my mother_** _. On the second shelf of the bookcase in the living room, there is a book about our travels; my father’s diary. I DON’T WANT YOU TO READ IT. I want you to take it off the shelf (she can’t reach it now she is in a wheelchair), give it to her and tell her you are off on an adventure. Tell her you’re following strict instructions set by her barmy son that are going to lead you round the world._
  4. **_Off you go_** _! The first big step in this adventure is to head to the airport and buy a ticket to Sydney. Yep, love, you’re off to Australia! My parents had always dreamed of going to Australia, and wanted to go there before they ran out of money! So we went there first and hey presto, our journey had begun! And so will yours :)_



_There are a few rules though – this would be no fun otherwise ;)_

_i._ _You are to tell Morgana you are going and only Morgana! None of the lads, Morgana can tell them if they ask._

_ii._ _No further contact with anyone. The only way to detach yourself from the world we used to know together, is to leave it behind completely. And I can see what you’re thinking in your very Arthur-like way ‘How can I detach myself if Merlin is leading me on some crazy adventure?’ Well mister, think about it this way. How often have I lead you on mad quests (aside from the one where we went to all the coffee shops in Paris to find the best coffee and then didn’t sleep for days)? This isn’t the life you knew, this is a whole new way of living and existing._

_iii._ _You are allowed one bag – that backpack we bought when we were going skiing; you know, the one where you can attach the sleeping blanket? And don’t forget the blanket; you’re going to need it! ;)_

_Now, Arthur, the journey of a lifetime is about to begin. Off you go! And good luck!_

_M x_

“Wow.” Arthur said aloud, despite the fact that the only thing around to hear it was the spider (whom he had named Gary in an attempt to combat the loneliness) who had made its home in the corner of the living room, “I know you had some mad ideas, Merls, but this one surely has topped them all!”

He ran a hand through his hair, his brain working overload. He, Arthur Fitzroy Pendragon, was somehow supposed to drop everything and go gallivanting round the world. It was mad. Completely and utterly made. There was no way he could get away with it. Uther hated his marriage to Merlin from the start, and wanting to leave his job to do something for Merlin? That would probably derail Uther completely!

Arthur spent the entire day thinking it through. Running round the local park 5 times cleared his head and gave him a chance to think in peace. Because, if he was honest, peace and tranquillity seemed to be even harder to find these days, especially with a nosey half-sister who called every half an hour to check up on you (and when those phone calls were ignored it only resulted in more ringing so it was easier to just answer the first time). Yet the park was always quiet and no one bothered him because he was just some normal guy on a run.

There was so much to consider. Mainly, his father, Uther Pendragon. If Uther Pendragon was angry with Arthur, or with anyone, there was no way of knowing what he would do, and what consequences it would have on Arthur’s life. His job, as much as he hated it, kept him afloat. It was his job. His job in the family business. The family business that was run by Uther. _Oh God_ ran round Arthur’s head more times than he ran round the park. One thing was certain though, giving up on everything he’d ever known as one hell of a way of to ‘move on’ from the life he had known with Merlin.

It took 15 hours of solid thinking before Arthur made his decision – no mean feat for a man who usually got home after an eight hour day and just give up on thinking completely.

“Morgana?”

“Arthur!” Morgana was completely taken a back to actually receive a phone call from her brother. Especially after the amount of calls he rejected that day. “How are you doing… shit, no, sorry Arthur! Natural question to ask. I only meant…”

“Hey! ‘Gana, it’s alright. I was just ringing to let you know… fuck, I don’t know how to really tell you this… er okay. You’re just going to have to go with this, okay?”

“Go on, Arthur,” Morgana replied sceptically, Arthur was never unsure of anything so this had to be interesting. “But make it quick, I have a meeting to attend to.

Arthur grinned to himself, “Right, thanks ‘Gana. Basically I have received a selection of envelopes, letters, whatever, from Merlin.”

“Arthur…” Morgana paused, “Arthur… Merlin’s… sweetheart, Merlin’s dead.”

Arthurs voice caught in his throat as she said it, the words like daggers, stabbing him repeatedly in his already broken heart. “I… I know,” he replied, his voice cracking as he tried his best to hold himself together, “Just let me finish. I received a group of letters from Merlin. He wrote them when he was in hospital, and he has a sort of task for me to complete. He’s asked me to, well, it sounds insane, but he’s asked me to travel the world for him. To follow a route his took when he was twelve and his barmy-as-he-is parent decided to take him out of school. And I’m, I’m going to do it.”

“Arthur…” Morgana’s tone had changed dramatically. This ‘adventure’ Arthur appeared to be planning had set alarm bells ringing. “Are you seriously telling me that you are just going to drop everything and follow a series of letters from Merlin and travel round the world?”

“Yeah. And I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“TOMORROW!? For fuck’s sake, Arthur! You can’t just go! You have friends! You have commitments! You have people who care about you here! Why do you feel the need to do this _now_? Even if you just leave it for a while and do it later, you don’t have to do it straight away. Why can’t you wait, Arthur?”

“Because Merlin wanted it,” he said simply, “And he’d have done the same for me if it was the other way round.”

“Arthur…” she’d put that warning tone on again, but after 20-odd years it didn’t faze Arthur.

“I’m only telling you because I couldn’t leave without telling someone, and one of the instructions was to tell you only. I can’t tell anyone else, I’ve got to break away from this life completely for a while. If anyone asks, can you please just tell them I’m travelling?”

“Does that include Uther?” She muttered bitterly. She hated Uther; hated him for rejecting Arthur because of his sexuality, and hated him for dumping her mother in the gutter. They hadn’t spoken properly in over 4 years. “You expect me to…”

“I don’t expect anything of you. You don’t have to tell him anything unless he asks. If he doesn’t ask, you don’t need to say anything. He already believes I’ve gone off the rails anyway, so hopefully he’’ just assume he was right all along, and I can have a while longer in peace while he wallows in his own smugness.”

“You could just ring up an extend your leave, Arthur,” she spat, “Then I wouldn’t have to speak to the bastard at all.”

“I can’t Morgana. It’s in the rules, and I am not defying them.”

“That’ll be a first.” She mumbled under her breath.

“Goodbye, ‘Gana. I’m leaving for Wales at six tomorrow morning. Look after yourself.”

“Arthur…”

He hung up before she could add anything more.

~*~

6am on Thursday morning, and Arthur was up and ready to go. His old camping bag was slung over his shoulder; and, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and an old Spiderman t-shirt (it was Merlin’s favourite), he’d never felt more excited and ready for the adventure.

Glancing round the house one last time, his heart wrenched. This was it. his first journey without his right-hand man, without the other side of his coin, without Merlin.

One last check of his bag: letters, check; blanket, check; clothes, check; what else could a man need? _This is it_ , Arthur thought to himself, _time to face the world again_.

The train ride to Cardiff was as dull and boring as any train ride alone can be. Normally, Arthur would have been cracking jokes, putting Merlin off his book, listening to ridiculously-out-of-date-but-still-awesome music, or watching kids TV shows on his iPod and sharing the headphones with Merlin. But no. Normality had flipped, and everything he usually loved seemed dull and insignificant now. The loneliness wasn’t new, but it had never felt so real, so permanent before.

Two hours had never felt so long in his life. The countryside flashed past him in a blur. A few weeks before, he would have taken an interest in what they were passing. Merlin would have made him take an interest. His only moment of joy came as he remembered their flight to Paris, where Merlin and he had made up a story (which, duh, started off like a fairytale but ended up more like a horror/sci-fi mash-up that totally worked) and laughed pretty much all the way there. He had none of it this time. He didn’t even have the desire or will to think properly, let alone let his imagination run wild.

He could barely recall the journey, but suddenly he found himself standing in a small Welsh village as the bus bumbled away down the lane. He pulled his leather address book out of the front pocket of his bag, and found Merlin’s addressed scrawled on a random page in Merlin’s handwriting. A smile tugged at his lips as he looked at the attacked message, ‘don’t forget me, prat. Wales isn’t that far away!’

It didn’t even take long to find Merlin’s road, not as long as he’d expected. The whole village seemed to be made up of only five cobbled streets. Standing outside the cottage for a moment, he took in the place Merlin had once called home. The thatched cottage was small but had plenty of character; its tiny windows had frilly, white lace curtains covering them, and there were hundreds of flowers out the front. One thing, though, sat uneasily with Arthur. Merlin had mentioned his mother was now in a wheelchair, and the cottage (as lovely and picturesque as it was) was nowhere near suitable for a wheelchair.

After checking his watch a dozen times (ten o’clock isn’t that early, is it?), Arthur strode purposefully up to the door and gave it three resounding knocks. A muffled call came from somewhere towards the back of the cottage,

“I’m coming, dear! Give me a second.”

Arthur barely waited ten seconds before the cheery red door swung open.

“Arthur,” Hunith nodded at him, “Come on in, love. Merlin told me you might be coming.”

He could see the sadness in her eyes before she turned and moved off down the hall, but he thought better than to say something, English stiff-upper-lip really had its uses. He followed slowly, suddenly nervous, unsure. It felt like he was intruding, like he didn’t deserve to be there, shouldn’t be there at all.

“Don’t be shy, Arthur, come on through!”

 _She can read minds_ , Arthur thought to himself, _obviously where Merlin got it from, that ability to read me like a damn book._

“Mrs Emrys…”

“Hunith, please.”

Arthur smiled at her before continuing, “Hunith, I’m sorry for turning up on your doorstep uninvited, it’s just…”

“I know,” she said sadly, “You can hardly say you are uninvited when it was my loony son who sent you to me in the first place.”

“Wait, you know?”

“He mentioned it the week after he was first admitted to hospital. He didn’t tell me much, I just assumed it was important.”

“Yeah…” Arthur replied, running a hand through his hair as he thought about the Welsh lilt in Hunith’s voice, and how much stronger it was than the one that slipped into Merlin’s voice when emotions ran high. “He has this plan. He thinks, well, he wants me to go travelling round the world, the same route you took when he was twelve.”

“Oh…”

He barely heard the soft gasp, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Hunith’s hands flyy to her mouth.

“You’re… Merlin always…”

“He always wanted to go again,” He said quietly, “But he never got the chance.”

“Oh, love,” Hunith took his hand in hers, “He love you very much, you know. He never stopped talking about you, even in the early days.” Her smile wasn’t quite sad, of course there was sadness there, but there was more, she radiated a great sense of pride, pride and love. “Thank you,” she added after a moment, “Thank you for looking after Merlin for me, thank you for being the best husband a mother could wish for her son.”

The words were soothing, a balm for the burning anguish that still raged in his head. And it was a few minutes before Arthur could reply.

“I wanted, actually, Hunith, to say exactly the same thing. To thank you for the most amazing person who is your son. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’d have been so lost without him, he helped me more than he ever knew.”

“And the same with you, my dear. You believed in him, you loved him, you completed him. And that sort of love is worth its weight in gold.”

“I was the luckiest man in the world for him to even notice me, let alone love me the way he did.”

Hunith smiled at him, and all he could see in her was Merlin. She had the same soft features (though often, Merlin had looked more elfin, remnants of his father, who Arthur had never met), the same warmth, the same big heart. And that’s when he broke. For the past few days he had held himself together, savouring the good times, felt at peace. But being in merlin’s childhood home, he couldn’t cope.

Hunith’s arms encompassed his waist, “Shh, love, it’s okay. It’ll be alright.”

Arthur pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, desperately trying to compose himself, he hated people seeing him cry. “I’m sorry, Hunith.” He paused, “Can I… can I see Merlin’s old room?”

Hunith frowned briefly but nodded. “Up the stairs, second door on the right. I’m sorry it’s quite dusty. I haven’t been up there in a while and I told my cleaner not to go in there but it’s…”

“Hunith,” Arthur interrupted gently, “It’s fine, honestly. I’ll be in and out of there in a jiffy, there’s just one thing Merlin asked me to take. Is that okay?”

“If Merlin is okay with it, then I’m okay with it.”

He gave her a weak thumbs-up and a half-hearted smile before turning from the kitchen and heading to the stairs. He was amazed and instantly in love with the whole cosy cottage. It had nooks and crannies everywhere, each one full of bits and pieces. Photos covered the walls: photos of Merlin, young and old; photos of Hunith and Merlin’s father on holiday; photos of their whole family unit, looking happy, content. Books were shoved into every available space, old ones with well-loved crinkled spines, new encyclopaedia’s mixed in with newer editions; the whole family seemed to love reading, it wasn’t just Merlin’s thing.

Even from a distance, Arthur could tell which room Merlin’s was. The door may have been closed but it was covered in pictures, well stickers, and on closer inspection Arthur discovered they were pictures of dragons and other magical things – not the footballers and cars that had covered his walls.

Gently pushing the door open, the sense of Merlin almost overwhelmed him. despite the fact it had been cleaned since Merlin had last left, there was, as Hunith had said, a small layer of dust that had settled on Merlin’s things. The walls were a soft, faded blue, covered in yet more pictures. It wasn’t a large room, far from it, but the little cubby-hole would have suited Merlin and his hide-away tendencies. A red bean-bag sat in the corner, a pile of books stacked beside it, and behind them, a small chest of oak draws.

For some reason he couldn’t understand, Arthur’s heart was pounding in his chest. If the card was in there, then the whole mad adventure was truly happening. There would, really, be no excuses to turn back. He wound his way round the books and made his way to the draws in 5 steps that felt like a lifetime.

Merlin isn’t very organised, he thought to himself, but his mum might have been. Now socks, top drawer for me but Merlin… “The bottom draw!”

The drawer creaked a bit when he eased it open, like it hadn’t been opened in a long time. He tried his best not to disturb too many of Merlin’s things whilst he rooted around, until his had stumbled across a paper envelope. Inside was the promised bank card, his Holy Grail. The adventure was actually happening. And it began with a visit to Will.

Jogging back downstairs, he found Hunith sitting in the kitchen, looking wistfully out across her garden.

“Get what you need?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, thank you, Hunith,” he replied, “Merlin has told me I need to visit Will, that he lives opposite here? Is this still the case?”

“It is indeed, Arthur. Will has been a lot of help these past few weeks. Well, few years really, he’s like my second son.”

Arthur nodded slowly, “He and Merlin were close then?”

“Oh yes, very. Will was always very headstrong, Merlin used to follow his lead, often landing him in trouble, but he liked it that way. They made a good team. Will was always Merlin’s rock.” She paused, “Well, until he met you” She smiled, “I was always afraid I’d lose both of them when Merlin left to be with you, that Will would stop visiting. But he never did, bless him.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Hunith, I never meant to take Merlin away from you…”

“Nonsense, Arthur,” a sudden strength in her voice, “Merlin loved you, you loved Merlin, and he was the happiest I’d ever seen him. Could I have asked for anything more for my son? Than for him to be loved and happy? You didn’t take him away from me, you silly man, you gave him a chance. With you he had the opportunity to become the mad I knew he could be, I owe you a ton for that.”

“I…  I don’t know what to say…”

“There’s nothing more to say, dear. Now, Arthur, whatever my son wants doing, off you go and do it!”

“Thanks, Hunith,” he said with a grin, “I should be back within the hour.” A quick kiss on the cheek for her later and he was out of the door, crossing the road to Will’s.

Will’s cottage looked much the same as Hunith’s. The same quaint features; tiny windows, cream coloured bricks, the same thatched roof, but the door was a deep indigo instead of the bright red.

Arthur pressed on the doorbell, more nervous about talking to Will than he had been about talking to Hunith. He heard some mutterings coming from inside the house before the door swung forcefully open.

“Yeah?” A male voice asked.

“Will isn’t it?” Arthur replied, “I’m… Arthur Pendragon, Merlin’s husband. Can I possibly come in for a minute?”

The man in the doorway, Will, hesitated for a moment before turning aside and allowing Arthur through. The inside of the house was much the same too, but something was missing, it missed the warmth of Merlin’s old home.

“How’d you do.” Will said briefly, holding out his hand. Arthur obliged, shaking it and trying to smile, but failing miserable.

“So…” Arthur started, feeling awkward. He’d never really got on with Will, “I don’t mean to intrude and I won’t stay for long, it’s just before… before Merlin… died,” the word made them both flinch, “He wrote me a series of letters, detailing a load of tasks I have to complete.” Will didn’t say anything so Arthur continued, “And in order to complete them, I need a number.” He paused again, before blurting out, “What time did you and Merlin always go down to the river?” Blurting seemed easier than trying to explain himself.

Will stared at him incredulously, “How the fuck do you know about… Merlin said he’d never tell a soul! Not over his dead…” Will stopped abruptly, realising what he was saying. “Oh shit, sorry, mate… I didn’t mean… turn of phrase…”

“Just answer the damn question, Will.” Arthur growled, a sudden wave of anger pulsing through his veins.

“Ten forty-five.”

2254\. Arthur didn’t need to write the number down – words might not be his thing, but numbers were (and Merlin had often teased him that he knew Pi to over 40 decimal places and was aiming to learn more).

“Thanks, Will.” He turned to leave, but before he could do so Will’s hand grabbed his wrist.

“I am sorry, Arthur. I still can’t believe… I hadn’t seen him in so long… then suddenly…”

“I know, Will. I… I don’t believe it either.” His anger died down rapidly, “I don’t particularly want to believe it.” And for the first time he looked Will directly in the eye, and there he saw the desperate sorrow and terrible sadness Will felt and his heart went out to him. “Thanks, Will. You were the best friend Merlin ever had, thanks for looking after him.”

“You too, Arthur. Thanks for loving him the way I couldn’t, thanks for saving him.”

“Saving…”

“He wasn’t happy here. That’s why he left to find work in London. Never told, Hunith, mind, but he wasn’t, he had to get out of here. You gave him that.”

Arthur gave him a small nod before turning away and walking out the door.

 _Right_ , Arthur thought, _only one thing left to do and that’s get the diary down for Hunith._

He hurried back over the road to Merlin’s home and knocked on the door again. He had a slightly longer wait this time, and as he listened he heard Hunith knock something over on her way to the door.

“Back so soon, Arthur?” she asked when he opened the door.

“I don’t really know Will all that well, so we ran out of things to say. I only had the one main question; everything else was just small talk.”

“It’s quite alright; you don’t have to explain yourself to me that much. I was just a bit surprised, is all.” She paused, “So, you’ll be off then?”

“I’ve actually got one more thing I need to do,” he said, grinning at her, “Something Merlin wanted me to do for you. Can I come in a moment?”

“Oh my!” she exclaimed, the air of disappointment leaving her, “Would you like a cuppa, I just put the kettle on.”

“I’d love one, thank you.”

He followed her through to the kitchen and handed him a green mug full to the brim with steaming tea.

“So… Merlin wanted you to do something for me?”

Arthur chuckled. Hunith reminded him so much of Merlin; either impatient or always straight to the point, usually just both.

“Do you have a bookshelf in your living room?”

“Yes… I do,” she looked puzzled,” But what’s that got to do with…” but she trailed off as Arthur slipped from the room. She started to follow but he was back before she had the chance to move anywhere.

“Merlin wanted me to get this down for you.” He handed her the battered leather book and gave her a shy smile.

She gasped before taking the book slowly from his outstretched hands, “Merlin still remembered?”

“He never forgot anything, Hunith.”

She gave a small quiet laugh, running her hands across the well-worn cover, “Were you supposed to…”

“I’m meant to give it to you then leave, I’m afraid.” He said regretfully, “Merlin didn’t want to spoil the surprise. But he wanted you to read it again.”

“I haven’t read it in so long.” The welsh lilt in her voice had thickened; much liked Merlin’s had when he began reminiscing.

“I know,” he said softly.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Any time, Hunith. Anything you need, I’ll help. Even if I can’t be here in person, I’ll help you the best I can. If need money, an extra pair of hands, someone to talk to, you call me, okay?”

She nodded gentle, a small smile tugging at her lips. He bent down and kissed cheek gently.

“I’ll see you soon, Hunith. And send you some postcards on the way.”

“Oh! You’d do that?”

“Of course. And thank you, again.”

“You too, Arthur, you too.”

 

He stood in the road for a while leaning against the cottage wall. _The airport, Sydney, freedom._

And within six hours he was on the plane, on his way to the biggest adventure of his life.


End file.
